


Trying Not to Think

by MoanDiary



Category: Fringe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 00:30:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoanDiary/pseuds/MoanDiary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Peter thought he wanted turns out to be not exactly what he'd anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trying Not to Think

Olivia. Olivia. Olivia.

His senses pulsed, sang, screamed her name. She was under his hands, against his lips, his body. He was breathing her in. He was consuming her. Or she was consuming him. It didn't really matter much to Peter.

Five minutes ago he'd been terrified that she was going to call this off. This whatever it was--relationship, he guessed. And now she was all over him with a very clear intent. She wanted to have sex with him tonight. And him, well, he'd wanted to have sex with her for almost as long as he'd known her. 

He was stricken by how extraordinarily lucky he was. If he hadn't found out about his childhood and Walter, if he hadn't fled, if he hadn't gone Over There with Walternate, if she hadn't done the impossible to bring him back, he wouldn't be in this position right now. It took all those amazingly stupid, rash decisions on his behalf to lead to possibly the best turn of events he could have imagined.

He pulled back to look at her, his heart swelling with happiness, affection, and other emotions left deliberately nameless. He'd hoped they'd stare into each other's eyes like they often did, hoped she would understand all the things he didn't have the courage to say, hoped he'd see that understanding, that mutual feeling in her answering gaze.

"Is something wrong?" Olivia panted, staring at him blankly, her lips hinting at that sly smirk that seemed to occupy her face more often than not these days.

Peter masked his disappointment with a half-smile and shook his head. "Nothing at all."

"Well, then." Olivia's eyes darkened. "Should we move this to the bedroom?"

"After you."

She smiled and tugged at his hand. He obligingly trailed after her into her bedroom.

The inner sanctum, he thought. It was a room he'd often imagined but never seen until now. He didn't have much time to admire it, though, because as soon as he cleared the door, she slammed it closed and pressed him against it, her hands tangling in his hair and her lips crushed against his.

Her kisses now were like a variation on a theme compared to what they had been before. The technique was the same, but their aggression was multiplied tenfold. There was a lot more teeth and tongue involved than he had anticipated. He wasn't one to complain, though. She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, pulling a groan from deep inside of him. Her hands slid from his hair, down his back, and onto his ass, pulling him firmly against her and grinding.

Peter let out a harsh gasp and pressed his face into her neck, panting and trying to control his lust. He placed firm kisses down her perfect neck and set his trembling fingers to work on the buttons of her shirt. Olivia pushed away from him and took over the job herself. When she finished unbuttoning, his hands joined hers in slowly sliding the shirt down her arms.

Although he'd seen her in her underwear before, in this context, the sight was a thousand times more erotic. Most activity in his brain screeched to a halt, but he found himself absently wondering when she'd started wearing white lingerie rather than black.

Olivia took advantage of his momentary dumbfoundedness and pushed him back onto the bed. She followed immediately, straddling him. She leaned down and captured his lips again, more gently this time, while one hand slipped down to cup him through his now very uncomfortably tight jeans.

"Jesus Christ, Liv!" Peter's voice was strained. She smiled at him seductively and leaned down, her lips up against his ear.

"I want you."

"God, I want you, too, Olivia. So bad," Peter whispered roughly, his hands running up to her bra-clad breasts and caressing them wonderingly.

Olivia disappeared from his view for a moment, then he felt her atop him again. She'd shed her trousers and was working swiftly on the fly of his pants. Within moments she'd pulled him free, and before he could even process what was happening, her mouth descended on him, and Peter was in a whole new world of pleasure. His hands flew of their own volition to the back of her head.

"Ah…ah…'Livia…" He resorted to tugging on her ponytail to get her attention. She disengaged and looked up at him with what might have been impatience. It was hard to tell in the dim light. "I don't think I can…It's been a long time for me, and I…"

"I got it." She smiled reassuringly and climbed back up him.

Peter was about to suggest he go down on her (just one of many Olivia-centered fantasies he was eager to make reality) when she straddled him again and, just like that, lowered herself down onto him.

"Holy--" Peter's fingers dug into the mattress and his head pressed backward into the pillow. He was still pretty keyed-up from that blow job, and now… "Olivia!"

Then she started to move, and he was basically lost. It was over much more quickly than he would have liked, in a haze of panting, groaning, gasping pleasure. When Peter came back to himself, Olivia was propped up on one elbow beside him.

"Did you…?" He asked, guiltily.

"Yeah," Olivia said, reassuringly. "Oh, yeah."

"Really?" Peter asked skeptically, cocking his head. "I hope you're not just saying that to make me feel good, because I'd be more than happy to--"

"Don't you think if anyone would know if I came, it'd be me?" There was a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"Sorry." Peter looked down at himself and realized he was still wearing his jacket and shoes. This certainly hadn't turned out as he'd imagined.

She rolled out of bed and to her feet, still clad in her underwear. "I'm going to wash up."

Peter sat up, tucking himself back into his pants, and debated whether he should get undressed and into bed or stay fully clothed. Was this a sleepover-cuddling kind of thing? Was it just a booty call? Were they just friends and coworkers who made out and had sex sometimes? Where exactly were they on the relationship continuum? 

His mind went back, unbidden, to the first time their lips had met. Illuminated by the lights of another universe, she'd bared her soul to him, allowed herself to be completely vulnerable. If you'd asked him then whether their first time would end in cuddling, spending the night together, and waking up to make pancakes and bacon for each other, he would have answered a solid, if dreamy, yes. Now he wasn't so sure.

Olivia emerged from the bathroom and walked, businesslike, back to the bed. She stared pointedly at him. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Oh, I just…didn't know if you wanted me to stay or not," Peter said sheepishly.

Olivia smiled, pulling back the covers on the bed. "Take off your clothes and get in here."

A smile bloomed across Peter's face as he shrugged off his jacket, kicked off his shoes, and stripped down to his boxers. Olivia gave him a genuine smile and patted the spot next to her. Peter crawled beside her, trying not to betray the excessively happy thumping of his heart.

It was not until hours later, as they spooned in the dark, that Peter's dreams were disturbed by the sensation of Olivia trembling almost imperceptibly against him. He shifted and adjusted his grip on her before slipping back into unconsciousness.

He did not see the tears streaming down Olivia's cheeks, or hear, softer than a whisper, Olivia's mouth shape the name "Frank." 

By the morning, the tears were long gone from both the pillow and her face. Peter and Olivia made each other pancakes and bacon and tried their best not to think too hard.


End file.
